


Arbitration

by Saphron_Girl



Series: Alignment [3]
Category: Trust (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Regina loves her family more than anything, discussion of sex, however there is candid discussion of it, i just love Regina so much I HAD to write something for her, oblique reference to murder, there is no actual sex in this fic, this is a meditation on the Leonardo/Primo situation through Regina's eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27493885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphron_Girl/pseuds/Saphron_Girl
Summary: Inching closer to her reflection, Regina scrutinized the laugh lines bordering her eyes and touched the slightly exaggerated frown of her mouth.  Objectively, she knew she was still beautiful, but she couldn’t match Primo’s voracious hunger for life.  He’d vibrated with it for as long as she’d known him and no level of heaped abuse could squash it.  She remembered his teenaged obsession with Grace Kelly in “To Catch a Thief”.  At the time, Primo’s father, Fabrizio, had encouraged it as a balm for his unspoken fears.  It wasn’t until years later, when Fabrizio was dead and Primo finally had spending money of his own, that Regina realized it hadn’t been Grace, but rather her wardrobe, that he’d been enamored with.  The revelation hadn’t surprised her.With one last glance in the mirror, her figure accentuated by immaculate blue velvet, Regina wondered if she was his new Grace.
Relationships: Leonardo/Regina (Trust), Primo Nizzuto/Leonardo
Series: Alignment [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931905
Comments: 24
Kudos: 77





	Arbitration

Regina had known that Primo was gay for as long as she’d understood what the word meant. That she was seemingly alone in this knowledge perplexed her. Whether browsing a market aisle or sitting at the salon, she often heard village women chattering about his prospects and potential matches. _He's so tall and handsome_ , they said, _all he needs is the right girl to settle him down and stop his cavorting ways_. 

To quell his childish games. 

Any “cavorting” that Primo got up to happened in the sprawling anonymity of Rome, of that Regina was certain. His frequent visits with Calabria’s working girls was at odds with what appearances suggested. She talked to them sometimes, when no one else would, if they happened to be on the same street or patronizing the same shop. It was easy to drop Primo’s name here and there, just to watch their reactions. Regina had always possessed unique talent for reading those minute changes, whether a brief twitch of an eyelid or quirked mouth. It felt like she could divine things on an instinctual level, like she was sifting through volumes of information that no one else could see. Perhaps in another life they would've called her a witch for it. 

It was as plain as day on the girls’ faces: none of them had ever fucked Primo, but they all knew him. And more than just in passing. Sometimes, she’d register a kind of gratitude, not quite approaching affection, in their eyes. Wickedly smart, it was no wonder he’d installed himself as their rampart and confidante, masquerading as a frequent customer. Primo loved having others indebted to him. It was a perfect symbiosis benefitting both parties. 

Not without a hint of irony, that preternatural ability to read micro-expressions was what made her realize - like a bolt of lightning out of the sky - that her husband was enraptured with Primo. Once the white-heat of her anger had dissipated, she decided to silently sit back and watch. She wasn’t sure if Leonardo’s infatuation was still in its infancy, or extended beyond just the superficial; even she had to admit that Primo possessed a strange, magnetic quality. It went beyond the unnerving intensity of his icy stare or the fluidity of his narrow hips as he moved. There was a raw hunger for life in him that swallowed up anyone too close to his orbit. 

It was rare she was in a position to observe Primo; their worlds rarely intersected, and Leo - for obvious reasons - was intent on keeping his work at arms’ length. Regina wondered, in retrospect, if it was her talent for reading people that had made Primo’s preferences plain to her. It often felt impossible that no one else saw or acknowledged it. He exalted in sticking out, flirting with the blatancy of his queerness, almost thumbing his nose at Calabria and its sheltered vantage point. 

The first time she'd ever seen Primo with his shirt unbuttoned - so artfully calculated in its seemingly careless dishevelment and just enough to expose his bare, tanned chest - she'd been shocked at his brazen taunting of Salvatore. The cherry on top of it all had been his glinting collection of necklaces. Regina knew jewelry, and it'd been obvious that they weren’t cheap; she'd wondered if he’d boosted them from an apartment or storefront in Rome. 

Back when she and Leo had been trying so hard to get pregnant, she’d worn a little cornicello pendant next to her gold cross. It was both a protection against bad luck and a symbol of fertility. Primo owned a bright red cornicello. It hung from the festoon of gold chains around his neck; on any other man it would be and obvious declaration of sexual potency, but on him it was like an obscene, blood-red cock displayed as a symbol of his proclivities rather than reproductive power. Sometimes he’d take it between two fingers and rub it like a talisman, and she’d have to avert her eyes to hide her amusement. 

Despite his bravado, something in Primo shuttered when he was in Leo’s presence. It was obviously defensive, though Regina couldn’t discern why; for as long as she and Leo had been together, Primo had been aloof, sometimes even overtly rude, in their company. On rare occasions he'd been hostile in a way that had perplexed her young husband. Once, he’d even chased a teenaged Primo down the street after getting a paper airplane in the eye. 

It was obvious that Primo had been attracted to Leonardo, but that alone wouldn’t account for how his behavior had evolved into adulthood, which now resembled something more remote than overtly antagonistic. It was an oblique admission of vulnerability that left Regina unsettled. 

So, she tried to glean some answers from her husband. 

Francesco had finished his supper early and retreated to study in his room. Casually, while picking at the last morsels on her plate, Regina choose her words with precision.

“There’s only so long people will sustain the fiction that Primo will marry.”

Leonardo sputtered, almost choking on his wine.

“What?”

“I’m not judging, but I’m also not an idiot. The idea of that man attempting to keep a wife happy for any length of time is ridiculous and even he knows it.”

Leaning forward, Leo rubbed his hands over his face and up through his salt and pepper curls. When he finally looked at her she saw the worry in his eyes. His compassion never failed to take her breath away.

“It’ll definitely be more difficult now that he’s in charge.”

It was the closest either of them had ever come to acknowledging Primo’s sexuality out loud.

“But he won’t keep an unhappy wife, either,” Regina mused, hit with a sudden wave of clarity, “I don’t think he’s ever gotten over his mother’s misery.”

For the briefest instant, she saw a look of tenderness flicker across Leonardo’s face. 

“No,” he breathed, “he still blames himself, I think.”

"He was just a child.”

“Try telling him that,” Leo muttered, barely audible.

“Did you? You’re the only person he might listen to.”

“Yes, of course I did. Right between our discussion of political bribery and the cost analysis of acquiring a fleet of small transport trucks,” he snapped, voice laden with sarcasm.

Regina calmly held his gaze across the table, refusing to waver.

“Hmmm,” she finally responded, and redirected her attention to her plate. 

Leo was quiet for the rest of the night, but she could practically hear his mind racing.

*****

Almost exactly a week after their brief discussion, a package showed up at Regina’s front door, hitting her with a wave of fear so intense that she had to grip the doorway. A heartbeat passed like an eternity before she saw the expensive wrapping paper. Slowly, she crouched down and caressed it with her fingers. It was soft and gossamer-thin, glinting gold with the ostentatious monogram of a Roman designer. All the tension in her body dissipated with a disbelieving laugh. 

Placing it on her kitchen table, she paced restlessly for a few moments before finally relenting and tearing the paper away. There, nestled in delicate crepe, was an exquisitely tailored royal blue blazer, undeniably feminine yet with lines so bold and powerful it took her breath away. It was double-stitched, with real brass buttons, made with a velvet so fine that its granularity was almost undetectable to the human eye. She smoothed her palm across it and gasped at the sensation. It was wrapped in the heady scent of expensive male cologne and she knew without a doubt who’d sent it. 

Leonardo had spoken to Primo of their dinner conversation, and Primo was making sure that she knew. It was a subject that Leo was comfortable enough to discuss with him, and Primo was aware that she’d been fishing for information. 

Adrenaline coursed through her as she realized they were now playing a intricate, almost ritualistic, game. Regina snatched up the blazer and burrowed it away in the section of her closet where she kept her sewing supplies. It was a place Leonardo would never look.

After pouring herself something to drink, Regina sat down at the table and considered her next move. She needed more information about the nature of what the near-tangible _thing_ that existed between Primo and her husband.Two facts were obvious: Primo still harbored an attraction of some kind, and Leo had an uncanny barometer for gauging Primo’s emotional requirements. 

There was something else she knew about her husband; the “wild” period of his youth had involved bedding more than one man. They’d often dance around it. He'd let a seemingly benign comment slip - like how handsome some popular actor was - and she’d remark how similar their tastes were, no wonder they made such a formidable couple. Sometimes, she’d compliment a beautiful woman who passed them on the street, and lament the resemblance to girl she’d once been enamored with. 

They weren’t lies. Both she and Leo had that potential inside them. That similarity was perhaps one of the most significant secrets of their marriage’s success. Fundamental compatibility mixed with recognition of a kindred spirit; the knowledge of familiarity, hidden from everyone but each other. 

Suddenly, Regina recognized the reason for the painful weight sitting in her gut. If there was something between Leonardo and Primo, even if it was still blooming, not fully formed... she’d expected her husband to tell her. Fingers playing at the rim of her glass, she turned the thought around in her head. She could volley the ball back into Primo’s court, or withhold it from him, piquing his curiosity. 

The wine tasted like nothing going down.

****

Tucked into the soft curve of Leonardo’s neck, Regina breathed in, shocked by the arousal his scent elicited even after decades together. Her mind drifted, and she imagined Primo mirroring her position, nose pressed into the soft flesh of her husband’s jaw. It resulted in a surprising absence of anger. Voice gentle, Leo interrupted her thoughts.

“I have to go to Gioia Tauro this week. There’s a meeting.”

His words took a moment to fully register. Rubbing a hand over the expanse of his chest, she hummed in acknowledgement.

“You should get an apartment there. It’ll be easier for you, going back and forth so much. We can afford it now.”

Regina’s heart skipped a beat and the words tumbled out before she could stop them:

“Or you could stay with Primo,” she whispered.

She barely felt Leonardo’s flinch beneath her.

“I could ask him,” he responded, voice deceptively light. 

“He’ll take care of you,” she yawned, and burrowed her head deeper into his shoulder, effectively ending the conversation.

Leonardo hugged her tighter, but didn’t respond.

****

The entire time Leonardo was in Gioia Tauro, Regina felt strangely unmoored. She helped Francesco with his lessons and encouraged him to go play with his friends, then hesitantly pulled the designer jacket from its hiding place in her closet.

Its perfect fit came as no surprise. Regina twirled in front of her bedroom mirror, oddly giddy, reminded of the power she’d felt in her twenties... that sensation of entering a room and attracting every male gaze. Logically, she understood it was nothing more than an illusion of power, but it was comforting nonetheless. She missed it.

Primo knew that power, she realized; his mere presence demanded all eyes, whether drawn by lust or respect, his long limbs accentuated by calculated movement. Regina was self-aware enough to acknowledge his strange, hypnotic beauty and she knew that Leo - his tastes always so aligned with hers - was similarly effected. Primo’s allure was cold and terrible and impossible to resist. 

Inching closer to her reflection, Regina scrutinized the laugh lines bordering her eyes and touched the slightly exaggerated frown of her mouth. Objectively, she knew she was still beautiful, but she couldn’t match Primo’s voracious hunger for life. He’d vibrated with it for as long as she’d known him and no level of heaped abuse could squash it. She remembered his teenaged obsession with Grace Kelly in “To Catch a Thief”. At the time, Primo’s father, Fabrizio, had encouraged it as a balm for his unspoken fears. It wasn’t until years later, when Fabrizio was dead and Primo finally had spending money of his own, that Regina realized it hadn’t been Grace, but rather her wardrobe, that he’d been enamored with. The revelation hadn’t surprised her.

With one last glance in the mirror, her figure accentuated by immaculate blue velvet, Regina wondered if she was his new Grace.

****

One of Regina’s most satisfying indulgences was working on the modest vegetable garden she kept in their yard. She was tenderly monitoring the progress of her aubergines when an unexpected sound interrupted her reverie. 

Primo stood at the gate, face impassive as he took in her wide-brimmed sunhat and patched overalls. When he grinned it was almost endearing. She stood at full height and put her hands on her hips, deliberately playing up her ridiculous attire.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, returning his smile, “unfortunately there’s no fashionable way to dig up potatoes and onions.”

“Hmmm,” he responded, noncommittal, and quirked a single eyebrow. 

“Leonardo isn’t here,” she offered, “he’s letting Francesco fumble with a stick shift on a quiet country road somewhere.”

“That takes me back,” Primo smirked, “your husband is very good at that. Very patient with novices.”

Regina recognized the provocation for what it was, and stayed stone-faced but civil. 

“They should be back within the hour if you want to come inside and wait for them,” she offered, taking the higher ground.

He tilted his head up like an animal tracking the scent of its prey on the breeze, watching her with his cold, sea-green eyes. 

“Invite me for dinner tomorrow,” he finally spoke, “show me what you can do with those tomatoes and peppers. They're in their window of perfect ripeness.”

He was right; she’d been planning on harvesting them right before he’d arrived. Of course he’d know all the eccentricities of subsistence farming, Regina chided herself, contrite. 

“Do you have any requests?”

“Just wear the blazer,” he replied, mirth evident in his voice. 

Regina nodded, then watched as he turned and ambled back to his car.

****

For reasons she couldn’t quite articulate, Regina didn’t inform Leonardo about their dinner guest. When Primo showed up the next evening, she was in the kitchen, finishing up the sauce for her lamb chops. Leonardo jolted in his seat as Primo’s booming voice filled the hallway and mingled with Francesco’s delighted laughter. Wiping her hands on her apron, Regina moved toward the commotion.

Primo wore a blue velvet jacket, perfectly tailored for his broad shoulders, accented with brass buttons. It was a masculine version of the couture piece he’d given. Mischievous eyes meeting hers, it was obvious he knew that she’d made the connection.

“I come bearing gifts,” he announced, handing her a bottle of fine red wine. 

Regina’s lips spread into a smile, sharp yet just the right side of pleasant.

“There was no need, but thank you.”

She glanced up at Leonardo and was met by a rare inscrutable expression.

“The Gioia Tauro meeting went well, I take it?” she asked breezily, attempting to keep the mood light.

“As well as expected,” Primo hedged, standing at the edge of their living room, coiled tight, staring at the bare white sleeves of her blouse. There was a small package tucked under one of his arms. Regina retreated to the kitchen to decant the wine.

Seconds later, Primo quietly entered and affixed her with a frigid stare.

“I asked you to wear the jacket.”

“That color is stunning on you, Primo. It reminds me of that handsome blue suit you wore to Francesco’s confirmation,” Regina responded, ignoring his question.

“We matched even then,” she continued, heart racing, “it was the perfect compliment to my dress."

Glancing up, Regina observed his eerie stillness, but wasn’t deterred.

“If I’d worn what you sent me, it would’ve been as subtle as a shotgun to the face. We both know exactly where we stand,” she breathed, heart in her throat, “on either side of _him_.”

At that moment, Francesco came in to grab the plates, oblivious to the room’s tension. Intent on calming her nerves with busy work, Regina began to pour the lamb sauce. 

“And you want him to acknowledge it,” Primo murmured, breaking the silence.

Sighing, Regina balanced the sauce ladle against the bowl. 

“It’s all I want.” 

She paused to collect her thoughts. 

“Primo, trust and respect are valuable because they’re earned. A successful partnership of any kind must be built on them or it’s worth nothing.”

Regina caught the flash of uncertainty in his eyes before he could conceal it. 

“What do you have there?” she asked, nodding at the box, hoping her redirect was recognized for what it was. 

“Something for Francesco,” he muttered.

“You can give it to him after supper. The food’s ready.” 

She almost grabbed his forearm in a comforting gesture, but stopped herself at the last second.

****

The expression of unsettled bewilderment on Leonardo’s face throughout dinner was almost comedic. Regina maintained light conversation with Primo, who’d quickly caught on to her intent. He was charming and glib and included Francesco whenever possible. Even if it was no more than a fiction, at least it was a heartwarming one. When the meal was finished, Regina poured them all another glass of wine to draw out the pleasant haze of good food and drink.

“Francesco darling, please clear the table,” Regina asked, “when you’re done, you can open Primo’s gift.”

Her son’s answering smile was luminous and she ached with love for him. What had she and Leonardo done to deserve such a miracle? She risked a glance at Primo, expecting to see impatience or jealousy. Instead, she saw a surprising tenderness in his eyes. A kernel of something began to form in her mind, indistinct but tantalizing. Francesco’s excitement interrupted her musing. 

“It’s an 8-track player!” 

“And a cassette,” Primo amended, “look underneath.”

Overjoyed, Francesco frantically reached into the box and pulled it out. 

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

“ _Here Come the Warm Jets_. It’s Brian Eno’s new album. From the UK.”

“Can I listen to it?” Francesco asked.

Regina exchanged a silent but communicative glance with her husband.

“Just not too loudly,” Leonardo acquiesced.

“Yes, not too loudly,” Primo chimed in, “it’s very experimental.”

Francesco took the bright red, boxy thing and plugged it into the nearest outlet, shoved the cassette in, and breathlessly pressed play. The music was bizarre and cacophonous to Regina’s ears and Primo’s voice immediately cut through it.

“Not that one,” he declared, pressing the fast-forward button, “the third track is the best.”

If Francesco was irritated by the intrusion, he didn’t show it. Seconds stretched as Primo finally found the song he was looking for. The beat was primal and sexual in a way that stunned her, but the lyrics were what truly rendered Regina speechless.

_Baby's on fire  
Better throw her in the water  
Look at her laughing  
Like a heifer to the slaughter_

_Baby's on fire  
And all the laughing boys are bitching  
Waiting for photos  
Oh the plot is so bewitching_

_Rescuers row, row  
Do your best to change the subject  
Blow the wind blow, blow  
Lend some assistance to the object_

She wasn’t fluent in English but she knew enough to decode the raw violence of it. Glancing over, Leonardo's expression jolted her. Surely Primo wasn’t taunting, or worse, threatening them? Her husband’s face spoke of disgust and disappointment, but not fear. 

_Photographers snip snap  
Take your time, she's only burning  
This kind of experience  
Is necessary for her learning_

_If you'll be my flotsam  
I could be half the man I used to  
They said, "You were hot stuff  
And that's what baby's been reduced to"_

As the last note faded, Primo leaned back in his chair and wore a self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, what did you think?” he asked Francesco, ignoring the other adults in the room. Before her son could respond, Regina interjected, adrenaline and instinct forming her words.

“You’re right, it’s very experimental. It inspires primal emotions, doesn’t it? Chaotic, but also hypnotic. Like it’s challenging you to either fight or make love, and suggests there isn’t much difference between the two.”

The room was silent. Regina dared not look at Francesco who was no doubt stunned to hear his mother speak so bluntly. An expression of surprised delight slowly spread across Primo’s face. 

“You see right to the heart of things, don’t you?”

“I do,” Regina responded, keeping her voice as even as possible, refusing to risk a glance at Leonardo. 

“Can I listen to the next one?” Francesco interjected, hopeful.

“Sure,” Primo responded without missing a beat, “I’m sure your parents won’t mind.”

****

Primo had loitered at their house after Francesco reluctantly went to bed, watching the two of them with sleepy eyes, unusually docile thanks to an excess of red wine and a deficit of cocaine. It had still taken him a good hour to finally fall asleep on their couch. They’d awoken the next morning to find the living room empty and Regina had breathed a sigh of relief - the prospect of sharing awkward morning small talk was too much to stomach. 

It came as no surprise when Leonardo, still thrown off-kilter by Primo’s visit, had offered her a romantic day trip to Rome; an indulgence they'd never have considered, let alone indulged in, just a year previous. Regina sometimes still struggled to conceptualize the money they now had access to; nothing extreme, but enough that she no longer had to agonize over budgeting the simple necessities of life. 

As they walked arm in arm over the great city’s distinctive and ancient sampietrini cobblestones, she peered into storefront windows and considered how she’d likely never be fully comfortable with the idea of frivolous indulgence. The fashion she saw was undeniably stunning - she had an eye sharp enough to recogize exquisite design when she saw it - but it was another thing to overcome her ingrained resistance to purchasing something she could cut and sew herself. Her thoughts drifted to Primo’s gift, and its hiding place in her closet.

Leonardo stopped at a small boutique that specialized in men’s fashion. Surprised, Regina glanced over at him. Eyes soft, almost wistful, he stared at the artfully arranged window display. Following his line of sight, she saw the item he’d narrowed in on: a handsome pair of cufflinks, simple in their art-deco design, with masculine, geometric cuts of lapis lazuli, set in warm yellow gold. 

She knew, with instantaneous and razor-sharp clarity, that he wasn’t considering them for himself. The knowledge simply washed over her. Try as she might, Regina couldn’t muster an ounce of jealousy. She put the thought away for later consideration. 

“You should get them for him,” she spoke gently, “the color compliments his eyes.”

Leonardo startled, and turned to her, incredulous. There was no doubt who she was referring to. Careful to keep her smile soft and encouraging, she bumped her shoulder against his.

“But tell him they’re from both of us. It’ll throw him for a loop.”

Eyes widening, his mouth moved wordlessly before he burst into disbelieving laughter. Against all reason, Regina joined him, suddenly hit with the impossible strangeness of the situation. 

“I’m not sure he’d appreciate it,” Leo finally managed, still shaking, “he’s not very sentimental.”

“Gift giving is a power-play for him,” she mused, “we should show him it can mean something else.”

Leonardo raised an eyebrow, wordlessly requesting clarification. 

“He gave me an expensive designer jacket. It was a childish taunt and I told him as much.”

She watched the emotions - ranging from righteous anger to amusement - pass over Leonardo’s face. 

“Well-played.”

“Thank you. He expects retaliation, not reciprocation. There’s no cryptic message behind those cufflinks. Don’t let him misinterpret what they mean.”

“And what’s that?” Leonardo asked gently.

“A simple thank you. Acknowledgement of what he is to our family.”

She turned and held her husband’s gaze, unflinching.

“You invited him inside it, Leo. You can’t do this in half-measures. We have to let him know how he fits into the larger picture. He’s had so little familial stability...”

“He’s my boss.”

“He’s much more than that and you know it,” Regina pressed, “you’re terrified that you can’t define what he means to you. I’m content to see myself as both your equal and your ‘woman’, but you must reconcile that he’s your boss as well as your ‘man’. It’s your responsibility to show him that.”

For one agonizing moment, Leonardo stared like she was a stranger to him. Then she was suddenly enveloped, pulled into the familiar warmth of his chest.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay.”

“Leonardo, I won’t lord this over you or demand to take a lover of my own, even though I’d be well within my rights. I’m just heartbroken that you didn’t tell me. I don’t want to exist on the periphery of your life, especially when it directly affects mine.”

He nodded into her hair and squeezed tighter.

****

The second time that Primo approached Regina while she was gardening, she wasn’t surprised. She stayed on her hands and knees, watching him from beneath the brim of her hat. He wore an emerald green shirt with flared black trousers and looked like a towering peacock. It should have been ridiculous, but he was undeniably beautiful in his intense, unsettling way. She could see what her husband saw in him.

“Hello. Leonardo’s inside,” she offered, gesturing with her trowel. 

“He can wait for a minute,” Primo replied with casual ease and leaned forward, “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Oh?”

“Ignore the reason I bought you that jacket. You should wear it anyway.”

It was the closest thing to an apology Regina knew she’d ever get. Sighing, she hoisted herself up, removed her dirty gloves, and approached. His face was carefully blank as she stopped in front of him.

“Primo, that jacket is easily worth ten times as much as my wedding dress. I would be terrified of wearing it outside the house. What if it rained? What if people thought I was showing off?”

“Who gives a shit what people think?”

Regina pursed her lips. It was apparent they were no longer talking about the blazer. 

“There’s a thin line between flaunting something and hiding in plain sight, and you know it.”

“Does Leo understand the difference?” 

His question was pointed and shockingly genuine; she couldn’t fault his survival instinct. 

“No one else knows him like I do,” she assured him, “I can read that man like an open book. You’ll get there one day.”

There was a beat of silence as he studied her.

“You really aren’t angry.”

Removing her sun hat, Regina ran a hand through the tangled nest of her hair, using the moment to collect her thoughts.

“I sat with that question for a while, you know. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t furious. It’s not that I don’t care; nothing matters more than my family. But I finally realized that we could all be good for each other.”

Primo laughed incredulously, then stopped, brought up short by her placid expression.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes. Our interests are essentially aligned, aren’t they? Family isn’t a weakness if you choose it. And you’ve already chosen him, haven’t you? Fuck convention, Primo. Your entire life has been about defying it.”

“What do you propose?”

His eyes were haunted, but resolute; her heart twisted. 

“I had a very similar childhood to yours. My father was a cruel drunk and he never stopped drinking. You and I both learned to disguise our intelligence to survive. That’s what Leonardo loves about us, you know. We have a fierce light inside that refuses to be extinguished. It enthralls him; he loves the challenge. He’ll never grow bored with either of us.”

“What if I get bored of him?” Primo asked, voice strained.

“Your position of power gives you all the excitement you need. But you want the dependable kind of boredom he can offer you."

All the tension in Primo’s shoulders bled away. His demeanor instantly turned playful. 

“Do you have any other suggestions for me?”

Regina’s mouth twitched. Two could play at that game.

“He loves getting his earlobes bitten or sucked. Have you discovered that yet?”

For a single, blessed moment, Primo was rendered completely speechless. She enthusiastically continued.

“He can edge you for hours if you let him. It’s absolutely incredible. He almost made me pass out once. Oh! I’m sure you’ve noticed that whole dominance thing, but nothing gets him off as much as-”

He held up his hand, effectively silencing her. Regina struggled not to laugh at his pained expression.

“I’ve got the idea.”

“Never hesitate to ask if you need more tips. I’ve got about two decades’ worth.”

Nodding, Primo gave her a final, cool assessment, then turned toward the house.

“Oh! One more thing,” Regina spoke up, “Eventually we’ll all have to sit down and figure out a custody schedule. And then there’s the subject of Francesco.”

Her levity belied the unspoken importance of the subject, and Primo knew it. Instead of returning the volley, he leveled her with an earnest stare.

“Thank you for the cufflinks.”

Caught off guard, Regina swallowed and nodded, unaccountably moved. Primo pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and trudged away. She watched as he flicked his lighter, took a puff, and let himself in through their back door. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Brian Eno [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbU1zYzD-Tw) that Primo plays for Francesco.
> 
> Grace Kelly's [wardrobe](https://girlsdofilm.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/to-catch-a-thief-grace-kelly-as-frances-stevens/) in TO CATCH A THIEF.


End file.
